


mental breakdown in the chili's bathroom

by lemoncinders



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sadstuck, gamkar - Freeform, gamkat - Freeform, i guess that what this is lmaoooo, i only write depressed gamzee im sorry its a whole thing, tw cutting, tw drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncinders/pseuds/lemoncinders
Summary: So basically gamzee sad :( and karkat tries his bestTheres some drinking & self harm so be careful reading this okay?(I refuse to give this a nice title)
Relationships: Gamzee Makara & Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. homestuck chili's

**Author's Note:**

> Theres a bit more art for this on my tumblr! also this has not been proofread i really dont care enough lmao. I added some spaces to make it not so hard to read.
> 
> The TW stuff will be 2nd chapter
> 
> lemoncinders.tumblr.com

Gamzee hadn’t been out of his apartment in a few days. Even that time it had just been to get groceries and go to work. The shuttered windows let dim light into the cluttered room, slightly reflecting off empty cans and dirty plates. His stomach growled; he hadn’t been eating much, just enough to keep him living.

That wasn’t the only thing he had neglected. The few friends, if he could even call them that, hadn’t contacted him in over a week. It wasn’t like they wanted to talk to him, they would have tried if they actually wanted that. But they never talked to him. After all, what was he to them? He felt pathetic, he was just some clown that they always laughed at. He didn’t want that anymore, and if they wanted to talk to him, then they could.

He gazed at the kitchen, seeing its cluttered collection of bottles, cans, and dishware. The room smelled sickly, a combination of sweet soft drinks, greasy food, and alcohol. The more he looked, the worse he felt. He buried his head in his hands. So pathetic, he can’t even clean up after himself. The stinging from his arms and upper legs didn’t help either; a painful reminder of the fact that he couldn’t take care of anyone, especially not himself. He could hardly hold down his job, and even then, it was only because he needed it to keep his apartment.  
On the coffee table, something buzzed. He carefully moved aside the clutter. Underneath was his phone; someone had finally texted him. He brought it closer to him, moving his hair away from his eyes.  
It was from his closest friend, Tavros.

“Hey uhh,, no one has heard from you in a while and its umm kinda unlike you to go without talking to people? Anyways,,, I was gonna head over to see you later today if that’s ok. Or I can get Karkat and some other people and we can head out somewhere maybe? Just uhh let me know, okay?”

Gamzee’s heartbeat sped up and he felt warm. Shit. If Tavros were coming over here, he would see what a mess he had become. That couldn’t happen. Maybe if more people were around, there wouldn’t be as much attention on him. That must be the best option. He started to reply.

“Haha, yeah I’ve just been busy bro. Why don’t you round up the fuckin boys and we can get our hang on?”  
That would have to do, he was far too nervous to make up anything better than that. He got up. He needed to shower, maybe find some clean clothes. He hoped they wouldn’t notice anything wrong with him. He wouldn’t know what to say if they asked if he was alright. He looked at the steamy mirror, the large, numerous marks on his arms. Some were scabbed over, but many were still fresh and tender. His baggy shirt would cover them, and his jeans would cover the ones on his legs. What if they do notice the marks on him? What will he do then? He splashed cold water on his face and told himself not to think about that. He would be fine.

A few hours later, Karkat pulled up in front of his apartment block. Tavros, still getting used to his new prosthetics, was in the passenger seat and Sollux was in the back. The drivers seat pressed against his legs, and Tavros’s crutches had to lay across his lap.

“Hey idiot.” Karkat pulled out of the parking lot, looking at Gamzee as he backed out. “We’re getting dinner, Dave and John are coming separate.”

Gamzee chuckles, slightly uncomfortable. “Haha, where’re we heading bro?”

“I thought Tavros told you, we’re going to fucking Chili’s. I guess John is a huge fan, for some shitty reason.”

Gamzee clasped his hands and leaned forwards. He stared out the window, avoiding conversation. Chili’s was a short drive from his apartment, but the uncomfortable silence made it feel much longer.  
John and Dave were waiting inside for them, having already put their names down for a table. Dave nodded in acknowledgement.

“Hey, come on! I’m sure our table is ready by now.” John smiled at them, pushing through the second set of double doors. Gamzee followed, staying at the back of the group. He could feel sweat on his forehead.

The hostess sat them at a large round booth, setting the booklet-menus down in front of them. She said the servers name, but Gamzee wasn’t listening enough to hear it. The front of the menu was a haze of bright red and green. He pretended to listen to the conversation at the table, laughing along when he could. The waitress came around soon, taking drink orders for the table.

“And what can I get for you?”

Gamzee snapped back to reality.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll take a Bean Light. Bottle, uh, please.” He stuttered, looking back down at the table.

“Sure, I’ll get those right out for you.” The waitress walked away, leaving the rest of the table looking at Gamzee.

He excused himself from the table. His stomach hurt and his vision became cloudy on his way to the bathroom. He felt his breath quicken. He shouldn’t feel so anxious right now, it was supposed just a regular dinner out with friends. The bathroom door swung open, and he entered a stall. He crouched close to the toilet. Through the stall, he heard the bathroom door swing open.

“Gamzee?” The clicks of crutches and light footsteps filled the room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I just need a minute,” Gamzee mumbled.

“Okay, well, come back when you’re good I guess.” Tavros walked out, and the door shut behind him.

Gamzee collected himself. He walked out of the stall and washed off his face. It was cold on his hot skin. He dried his face and hands, then went back to the table. When he sat down, he saw everyone’s drinks had come. Even though it was late evening, he was the only one with alcohol. Maybe that was why they all seemed worried. He opened the menu, not looking at any one at the table. He knew he was hungry, but the nausea from his panic attack got rid of his appetite.

John, apparently hoping to take the attention away from Gamzee, started talking about his university. Gamzee tuned the conversation out, looking up at one of the TVs lining the walls. A soccer game was on, which he chose to focus on instead of his friends. He felt terrible ignoring them, but he decided it was best for them to not be too involved in his personal life. He took a sip of his beer.

The waitress came back swiftly. She took their orders, but Gamzee didn’t pay much attention. He just rattled off the first thing he saw on the menu. He didn’t worry about it being good.

Gamzee stared at the TV screen on the wall to his left, away from the rest of the table. Figures ran across the screen. He didn’t pay attention to it. The bottle was cold and damp in his hand and left a slight malt taste in his mouth. His friends’ stares burned through the back of his head. He shouldn’t have come out tonight; it was turning out to cause more of a mental break than his lonely days inside had. 

Something warm and strong smelling was set down at the table. Several soft clinks were made as plates were set down. Gamzee turned, setting down his drink. He ate slowly, listening to the others talk.

“—you should really have a new computer if you’re trying to run that on your piece of shit laptop.”

“School is too expensive for me to get a god damn gaming PC just to run the stupid game you bought me. I’m not at fault here, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well—”

Gamzee could hardly stand to listen to it. He didn’t have the space to care about it anymore. He asked for a second beer the next time the waitress was near; he could at least pretend to listen with another drink. Spaced out, Gamzee waited for everyone else to be done. His plate was only half-eaten, but he was desperate to leave. He placed his hand on his face, leaning against the table, and tried not to look at anyone at the table. Checks came out soon, and he paid in cash, leaving a nice tip. His friends took their time, but it wasn’t long before they were on their way out. Gamzee pushed through the double set of doors, walking out after his friends. Just outside of Karkat’s car, they stopped and turned to face Gamzee, forming a partial circle around him.

“Hey, what the fuck was going on in there? Have you fucking lost it or something?” Karkat crossed his arms. He looked upset, more concerned than angry.

“I—uh—It’s—” He stuttered.

“Dude, we can tell you’re not okay,” Dave placed his hand on Gamzee’s shoulder. “Just cut the shit.”

“Yeah, Gamzee, you didn’t seem like you were—” Tavros started.

“I don’t want to fuckin talk about it. I just want to go the fuck home. Right Now.” Rage swelled inside of him, and the group around him looked more worried. He only came out because Tavros wanted him to, he didn’t want the fucking attention of everyone.

“Sorry. Let’s go.” Karkat unlocked his car.

The ride back was dead silent. Gamzee didn’t want to talk to any of them. He opened the door before Karkat was even at a full stop, and he left without a word. Then he was back in his apartment, standing alone in the warm, smelly darkness.


	2. Uh Oh!!!!!!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee is left alone for a few hours, completely breaks, and then needs help cleaning up his mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but for real this time massive trigger warning literally as soon as you start reading.
> 
> Not particularly graphic, but seriously don't take it lightly. There's a short description of self mutilation in the moment.
> 
> I finished the fic n will post the next chapter in a couple minutes hopefully lol

From the cabinets, he pulled out a heavy glass bottle of cheap vodka. Taking a drink, he sat on his couch, finding his pocketknife on the coffee table. He pulled up his sleeves. He couldn’t do anything right, not even be with friends. His anxiety got the better of him. He didn’t have a good time; he knew he couldn’t and yet he still went. There went all his friends, afraid of the things he might do when upset. Well, he was upset now, and there was nothing they could do now. He set down the bottle and opened his knife. The blade was sharp against his skin, smoothly dragging across his arm. The force and sharpness against his tender arms were painful, but he enjoyed the release. Droplets of blood bubbled out of the wound. It felt almost nice. He continued, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He dropped the knife. Standing up, he walked to the sink, washing off as much as he could. Tired, he collapsed on his bed, his arms still stinging. He slept restlessly that night.  
Gamzee woke up to missed calls. They were from everyone he had seen yesterday; a few were from after 10, but as it got later, they became more frequent. At 3, they stopped. He listened to the voice mails.

“Hey, Gamzee, it’s Karkat. We do care about you, you know. We just want you to be okay. I don’t fucking know. Call me back.”

“Um, Gamzee, I hope you’re alright. Karkat said he called earlier but you didn’t pick up. I- um- I don’t… Just call one of us back later. Okay?”

“Dude we don’t know where you’ve fucking been but you need to call someone right the fuck now. It’s Sollux by the way. Call them. Bye.”

“John here. Karkat is really freaking out. He’s been texting us almost nonstop all night. You, uh, might want to call him, soon.”

They were almost nonstop. He checked the clock; it was only a little after 4. He decided to try calling Karkat. He needed to call him, after all that had happened while he was asleep.

The phone rang twice.

“GAMZEE,” Karkat sighed. “We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night! What the fuck happened?”

“I—” Gamzee was cut off.

“Know what, don’t bother, I’m coming over. I’ll be there soon.”

“Wait, please fuckin—” The call ended. “Don’t.”

Gamzee rubbed his eyes. He looked at the room around him; the floor was barely visible under dirty clothes and Gamzee’s other belongings. The rest of the apartment wasn’t better. Even if he wanted to get his place clean, it would take much longer than the few minutes he had before Karkat got there. His pulse quickened and he felt hot. As he heard a knock on his door, he remembered something he needed to get rid of: his knife. He bolted to the couch, looking as quickly as he could. There were more knocks.

“Gamzee?” He heard through the door.

He couldn’t find the knife; he would have to leave it wherever it was. He opened the door.

“Oh thank god.” Karkat threw himself around Gamzee. “We were so worried about you. Fucking dumbass.”

Gamzee moved them both inside, shutting the door.

“I uh, apologize for the motherfuckin state of this place… I didn’t think anybody was gonna come over anytime soon…”

“This is a fucking mess? What the fuck is going on?”

“… I don’t fuckin know.”

“Don’t lie to me, god dammit.” Karkat walked to sit down on the couch, and Gamzee followed.

Gamzee put his head in his hands. “Kar… I don’t fuckin know what to tell you.”

“I just want to know what’s going on! We haven’t heard from you for weeks, and when you finally show up, you’re completely out of it! And look around you, this place is a goddamn disaster. Are you even okay?” Karkat puts his hand on Gamzee’s thigh.

“I… I can’t explain anything to you bro.” He looks up, distraught. “I don’t know what to fuckin say.”

Karkat pulled Gamzee into a hug. Looking behind Gamzee, Karkat saw a blade sitting among the trash on the table. He pulled away.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing with a knife out here?” Karkat stood.

“Wait, I—” Karkat grabbed the knife and inspected it.

“Is this fucking blood? What the hell is wrong with you?” He turned, looking harder at Gamzee. “Did you—”

“I—” Gamzee was cut off as Karkat grabbed his sleeve and tugged it upwards. He saw the scabs and scars on his arms, along with the fresh cuts.

“What are you thinking! You can’t just fucking do that to yourself!” He grabbed Gamzee’s shoulders. “Come on…” Gamzee pulled him closer. His throat swelled and hot tears ran down his face. His hands clawed into Karkat’s shirt, grabbing handfuls of cloth.

They sat like that, a tangled embrace, for several minutes, until neither could cry anymore.

“Let’s… let’s try to make this better. Even just a little fucking bit. Okay?”

“Yeah… sure bro.”

Karkat stood up. The slight early morning sun came through the windows, slightly lighting the room. He went into the kitchen, searching for trash bags. He tore off two from the roll, letting it sit on the counter. He handed one to Gamzee.

“Here, you get everything that’s trash, and I’ll find your recyclables and anything you can’t throw out. Alright?”

Gamzee nodded, standing up. They worked in silence, until Karkat came across a CD player, buried near a stack of CDs.

“Hey, do you mind if I put something on? This silence is fucking killing me.”

“Go a-motherfuckin-head bro.”

Karkat turned it on, letting the disk inside play. Gamzee seemed to know the album well, humming along to the singer. They cleaned out the living room and kitchen, filling bags and stacking dishes near the sink. The room was clearer, though still dingy. The sun was brighter, filtering through the dirty glass windows.

They moved into the bathroom, then into Gamzee’s bedroom. Within a few hours, the apartment was much cleaner, aside from the trash bags near the door. Gamzee looked at Karkat; his eyes were half-closed, sweat beaded on his forehead. He took him by the arm, letting him sit on his bed. Karkat fell back, exhausted. Gamzee pulled him up and laid down himself. He glanced at Karkat. He was spread out on the bed; eyes closed and face relaxed. He let him sleep.

The room was much cleaner, more of a home than just a space he lived in. Maybe it wasn’t just the room that made him feel that way. He placed his hands under his head, staring at the ceiling. Butterflies filled his stomach and his face felt hot. He turned his head; Karkat was fast asleep, with a peaceful look on his face. He smiled and closed his eyes, falling asleep next to someone for the first time in a long time.


	3. No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee still isn't doing too hot, even with some help. Karkat wants to know more. They aren't perfect. But maybe they care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much less graphic this time. There is some description of lots of scars. Be careful as always!
> 
> This is the last part because I'm tired of writing.... it kinda sucks a bit just bc i rushed the ending a little but ive been sitting here for days trying to end it. Anyways love yall have fun

Gamzee was nudged, then nudged again. Sleepily, he opened his eyes. Karkat was trying to move Gamzee’s arms off him. He must have moved in his sleep, pulling Karkat closer. He moved, turning away from him. What a stupid mother fuckin mistake, hopefully Karkat didn’t mind too much. The light in the room made it impossible for him to sleep anymore, so he laid in his bed, waiting for Karkat to wake. Karkat shifted behind him, the sheets rustling beneath him. Gamzee heard a half-asleep sigh and felt guilty; Karkat had spent all night worrying about him, then spent several hours helping him get a bit of control over his life, or at least his apartment. He deserved someone who could take care of his needs, not someone who needed so much help.

A small hand grasped his side, unconsciously pulling him near. Gamzee felt his face blush, and his heart jumped into his throat. Thick, coarse hair brushed against his shoulders. He closed his eyes and lost track of time.

Karkat woke up later. Gamzee turned at the sound of his yawn, stretching his arms and legs. They laid next to each other, quiet, for several minutes. They could hear cars outside the window, driving past the building.

“Let me see your scars.”

Karkat didn’t move or sit up at first. Gamzee propped himself up on one arm, looking him in his eyes.

“You sure about that bro? I ain’t a pretty sight.”

“I said what I said.”

Gamzee rolled up his sleeves, stopping at his elbows. He paused, before grabbing the back of his shirt’s collar and pulling it off. Fresh scabs covered some of his lower arms, but pale, raised scars marked nearly all his skin. They crossed over each other; a chaotic pattern carved into his skin. Some were thin, but many were thick and looked painful. His chest was clear, revealing his thin frame, but scars lined above his pants, right at his hips.

Karkat looked horrified.

“This isn’t all of ‘em, either. I don’t think you want to see that though.” He reached for his shirt, loosely grabbing the fabric. Karkat’s hand met his own.

“I told you to show me. I want to know.”

Gamzee turned away and sighed. He started pulling off his pants, revealing more marks to match those on his arms. He pulled up the end of his briefs, showing scars on his upper thighs. All around his legs, scars lined his skin.

“Done now?” Gamzee could feel himself sweat; he wasn’t used to people seeing him like this.

Karkat reached out his hand. Gamzee met it. Karkat pulled his arm closer, touching the bumpy skin with his other hand. Gamzee looked away.

“You really shouldn’t do this to yourself.”

“I know.”

“You must not because you keep fucking doing it.”

Gamzee kept his mouth shut, pulling his arm away and grabbing his clothes.

“Hey fuckface, get back here. You haven’t even said anything about it”

“I might seem like it, but I’m not fucking stupid. I’m not your fucking clown either.” He started walking out of the room.

“Wait—When did I say—”

“Who are you fuckin kidding, you’re just here to mock me. I ain’t having that.”

“Gamzee! You fucking idiot, I’m trying to help you!”

“Yeah, sure.”

Karkat leapt out of the bed, grabbing Gamzee’s wrist to turn him around.

“Fucking look at me! Why—” Gamzee winced, trying to pull his arm away, but Karkat’s grip was too tight. “You’re staying here. Look at me! Why would I be here to mock you!” Gamzee turned. His arm felt warm in Karkat’s hand.

“Let. Go.” Karkat dropped his hand, and Gamzee went into the bathroom shutting the door behind him. Karkat looked at his hand; small drops of blood dotted his palm. He must have torn one of Gamzee’s scabs open.

Karkat slumped against the bathroom door, resting his head against it.

Gamzee sat on the bathroom floor, his back unknowingly against Karkat’s. He rested his head in his hands.

“I—I’m sorry, Gamzee.” Karkat’s voice was muffled through the door. “I—We only want what’s best for you. All of us—you had Tavros worried sick yesterday. Even John knew something was wrong, and he is completely out of touch with all emotional problems.”

Gamzee looked at his hands; he had never wanted to hurt anyone else. He stood up, placing his hand on the door handle. It opened and Karkat fell back. Kneeling, Gamzee embraced Karkat.

“I’m fuckin sorry brother. You just want to help.” He buried his head in his shoulder.

“You act like I like you or something. Come on, let’s take all your fucking trash out.” He spoke gently, chuckling. Gamzee lingered for a moment, not quite letting. Then, he picked him up and set him on his feet. He grabbed his keys and some bags, then slipped on a pair of slides, and they went outside.

The afternoon sun hung bright above them, and the pavement burned beneath their shoes. A breeze helped cool the humid air behind the dingy building. In the alleyway, they threw their trash bags into some large garbage bins. Gamzee felt dizzy; the heat and his empty stomach didn’t agree with each other, and his body was weak. And, maybe, his almost-caring friend had tied knots in his guts. Lost in thought, he walked back inside.

The stale, cold air shocked him back.

Gamzee’s stomach growled—loud. Karkat made a worried face, turning towards him.

“Look, we both have to eat some shit before both of us pass the fuck out. Have you been competent enough to have actual food in your apartment or am I going to have to do all your housework for you?”

He looked down, crossing his arms, and avoiding eye contact with Karkat.

“There is some fuckin shit in there, no reason to up and get all worked up over me and my incompetence.” He pulled out his keys, headed to his door. As he pushed the key in, he stopped. “Maybe you would be happier if you just left me the fuck alone, with all that complaining you’re doin. Might please your mighty load-gaper to get the mother fuck out of this shit hole.”

He felt bad, shit talking Karkat, but what did it matter? He always acted like he was an inconvenience to take care of and was often outright mean. Maybe Karkat was better off without him anyways. He twisted the key and felt the door give. Two hands pushed him inside and shut the door.

“Quit being such an asshole! You don’t have to guilt me into leaving or staying here, I’m going to take care of you as long as I have to. It’s not going to change my relationship with you or anyone else.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t want you to end up dead.”

Gamzee’s face blushed, and he shrunk down. He kicked off his shoes, tucking himself in the corner of his couch; he rested his head on his knees. Karkat sat next to him.

“Look, Gamzee, I can’t fucking help you. I can’t fix you. You have to do that yourself. But I am here for you. You have to be there too.” He firmly grasped his hand. “Can you promise me one goddamn thing?”

Gamzee looked up.

“No more scars, okay?”

“No more mother fuckin scars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request something I can try to write it! OR if you want to request art you can send an ask to lemoncinders.tumblr.com :o)
> 
> (im much more likely to draw you something ok bye <3)


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